


Can't Wait To Blow My Candles Out

by twilightstargazer



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, is this unbearably sappy? maybe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-07-07 04:21:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15900792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twilightstargazer/pseuds/twilightstargazer
Summary: All Bellamy wanted for his birthday was a beer, an hour of peace listen to the newest episode of his favourite podcast, and maybe a little something more than just a goodnight kiss from his girlfriend.(He guesses that two out of three ain’t bad.)





	Can't Wait To Blow My Candles Out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [caramelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/caramelle/gifts).



> HAPPY (belated) BIRTHDAY TO MY FAVOURITE PEANUT BUTTER LOVIN' CLOWN!!
> 
> Please enjoy some fluffy sexy times because that's all I'm good for <3

Bellamy isn’t really one to make a big deal out of birthdays.

When he was a kid it was just another reminder of how fucking poor they were; other kids could afford to throw parties and invite the entire class over for pizza while for him pizza on its own would be considered a luxury. When he got older he was too busy taking care of Octavia and his mother to even  _ care _ about his birthday anymore and now, well.

Now he just doesn’t see the  _ need  _ to do anything super special.

At most he would treat himself to a beer that was a little bit more expensive and better tasting than PBR at a bar with his friends. And at the least he would nurse a can of PBR at home while watching some Netflix and eating a cupcake.

It’s great if he’s being completely honest.

Of course, his girlfriend doesn’t really agree with that.

“It’s sad,” Clarke had said when she brought up birthday celebrations a month prior and he just shrugged.

“Not really.”

“Come on, Bell,” he remembers her begging, “Lemme do something nice for you, please?”

She was looking up at him with those baby blues, mouth pulled together in a pout and, shit, he can’t say no to her, not when she’s looking at him like that.

So he says yes and she grins so bright that he can’t help himself, leaning in and kissing her until they’re both breathless.

* * *

 

He should have known that when he gave Clarke full reign over his birthday she was going to go all out.

Clarke Griffin does not do things half assed. Especially not for the people she cares about the most.

His entire apartment is decorated, balloons and streamers all over the place, but artfully so. There’s even a banner, handmade from the looks of it, hanging over the cake. She bought pizza and all sorts of other goodies, including a platter of those turkey sandwiches he loves so much from the diner a block away from the school, and the fridge is chock full of his expensive treat-yo-self beer and different kinds of chasers for Monty’s moonshine.

And if that wasn’t enough, the party games she’s come up with have him in  _ stitches _ .

“ _ Stab the knife in Caesar _ ?” he says, amused, watching as their friends take turns getting blindfolded and trying to stick a cut out drawing of a knife in Caesar’s back. “You really are something else, you know that?”

She smiles at him, the same kind that makes his toes curl and send butterflies blooming in his stomach, and tosses her hair back. “I know. You’re so lucky to have a super awesome girlfriend.”

“I know,” he says earnestly, and her smile softens as she leans up and gives him a quick kiss before slipping out to play a game of beer pong with Raven and Monty.

He doesn’t really see her for most of the night, too busy playing host, but she does appear at his side when it’s time to cut the cake and makes sure to smear frosting all over his face.

It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate everything Clarke’s done, really he does, and he loves her for planning all of this and inviting their friends over, but he was really just looking forward to a night in with his girlfriend, binging some Netflix and  _ maybe  _ possibly convincing her to stay the night.

Hopefully.

He misses her okay, they’ve both been busy her with several art shows coming up and him with the start of the school year. At most, they’ve just been able to meet for lunch or coffee and his party is the first time in almost two weeks that they’ve been together for longer than an hour.

Plus she looks  _ gorgeous  _ in that little vintage dress she wearing, the combination of the halter top and sweetheart neckline causing his eyes to wander south more than usual.

The party winds down around eleven because everyone believes that Bellamy is an old man and then by the time he and Clarke finish clean up and pack away the food, it’s nearing midnight.

“God,” he groans as he throws himself on to the couch. “I love our friends but this is getting to be way too much.”

“You’re not even thirty,” Clarke snorts, poking her head out from the kitchen. “Stop acting like a curmudgeonly old grandpa. Next thing you know you’ll be yelling at clouds and the kids to get off your lawn.”

“Please Clarke, we’re  _ millennials _ ,” he sniffs, “We’ll never be able to afford some place with a  _ lawn _ .”

“You’re such an idiot,” she says fondly, ruffling his hair. 

He grins, leaning forward to nuzzle her stomach. “Yes, but I’m  _ your  _ idiot.”

“You’re a cheese ball too,” she teases him, and he nips at her through the soft material.

“Thank you by the way,” he says, chin resting on her belly as he looks up at her. “This whole thing was just-- wow.”

“I’m pretty amazing, I know,” she laughs, flipping her hair over her shoulder and Bellamy rolls his eyes.

“Humble too,” he says, dry, before tugging on her hips. “C’mere.”

Clarke allows him to pull her down in his lap, letting her knees land on either side of his hips and he has to tilt his head back to look at her, to meet her lips when she leans down.

It starts slow, a thank you kiss that turns into them languidly trading kisses back and forth on the couch, but then Clarke makes that little  _ sound  _ in the back of her throat and he finds himself clutching at her, kissing her harder, and it’s like a switch flips.

He licks across the seam of her mouth and she opens for him, tasting like the vanilla from the frosting of his birthday cake, and she shivers, rocking down on the hardening bulge in his pants.

“This another one of my presents?” he asks as he mouths his way down her neck, nipping at her collarbone and causing her to gasp.

“Depends,” she pants, dragging his hand to the back of her neck where the clasp of her dress was located, “You gonna unwrap me or not?”

Bellamy snorts. “And you call me the cheese ball,” he says, even as he works the clasp.

When he finally gets it undone, he tugs it down to reveal her tits, and his mouth immediately latches on to one while his hand massages the other.

“God I love these,” he murmurs as he laves on a nipple. Clarke is making these small, high pitched keening sounds, each one going directly to his dick, hot and hard in his jeans and she’s grinding on it. “Fucking  _ perfect _ .”

“Bellamy,” she whines, threading her fingers through his hair and giving it a tug. “Come on.”

“It’s my birthday,” he mumbles into her skin, kissing across her chest, back up her neck, “I get to do what I want.”

“Yeah, but I want to  _ fuck  _ you,” she says, rocking her hips down harder in search of more friction.

His hands land on her hips, stilling her motions and he catches her responding whimper with his mouth.

“And you will,” he promises, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into her hip bones. “In a little bit. Lemme have some fun first.”

She groans, biting a chord of muscle in his neck hard enough to send a twinge of pain through him. “You’re the  _ worst _ .”

“Yeah, yeah,” he murmurs, slowly pushing the skirt of her dress up. “I know.”

He latches back onto her breasts, sucking almost lazily, flicking his tongue against the nipple while she can’t do anything but make small, soft helpless sounds in his lap. Meanwhile his hands are toying with the hem of her underwear, and he’s delighted when he realises it’s the silky pair he loves so much.

“Were you planning this?” he asks, fingers across the smooth material. He can feel the warmth of her cunt through the fabric and she gasps soundlessly when he presses two fingers against her.

“I wasn’t planning on going home tonight if that’s what you’re asking,” she says, breath coming in short gasps. “Anything other than that, well. Let’s just call it a happy coincidence.”

“Very happy indeed,” he says, finally dipping his hand into her panties. She’s already wet, dripping really, and they both hiss at the first point of contact.

“You missed this, huh,” he smirks, gathering her slick on his fingers and lightly thumbing at her clit. 

“Yes,” she replies, unashamed, as her eyelids flitter shut when he starts to trace circles over her clit.

It’s not that Clarke is never open with him, far from it in fact. She’ll always be the first one to say what’s on her mind and that’s just one of the many things that he loves about her. But there’s just something about seeing her like this, half naked and vulnerable, her legs locked around his hips, hands grasping at his shoulders and hair, face pressed into his neck, panting.

She lets out a breathy sigh when he finally slips one finger in, then two, and he can feel the dreamy smile on her face when she nuzzles his neck, a contented giggle slipping past her lips.

“Good?” he asks, thumb brushing against her clit on every downstroke and he can feel the shivers running up her spine, that’s how close they are on his shitty little Ikea couch.

“It feels more like my birthday than yours,” she hums, hugging him tighter, “I’m getting exactly what I want.”

“And who says this isn’t what I want?” he asks, his free hand tweaking a nipple and she squeaks. “Who says I’m not enjoying this just as much as you are?”

Because he is, if he’s being honest. He loves to see Clarke get likes this, all breathless and pink cheeked and just  _ soft  _ in his hands, relinquishing all control to him. He loves being the reason for that.

He knows she’s about to come when he legs start to quiver and shake, and he has half the mind to stop right there, to have her whine and beg for him to give her what she wants, but for once he doesn’t.

Instead he curls his fingers up just so that they rub against that spot, the one that makes her gasp high in her throat. Her nails dig into his back as she stumbles over his name, and he’s certain that he’ll have little crescent shaped scars for the week to come. It just takes a twist of his wrist and in less than a minute she’s coming, cunt fluttering around his fingers accompanied by a rush of heat.

Clarke’s body shakes and twitches and he chuckles as he sees her through it, only stopping when she goes limp around him.

“I almost forgot how good you are at this,” she breathes.

“Well if you ever need a reminder,” he says, dropping a wink at her. His hands are shaking as he tries to get his pants undone, and he’s almost painfully hard at this moment.

She’s not helping of course, peppering soft kisses up the column of his neck, dragging her teeth across his earlobe and now he’s the one who finds himself whining, “ _ Clarke _ ,” when she lightly sucks on his pulse point.

“Present,” she drawls with a smirk, and he pinches her ass.

“You’re such a little shit,” he huffs, finally getting the zipper undone and shoving his pants down past his knees.

She gets her hands on his cock almost immediately and he hisses when she begins to pump them up and down over his length, almost lazily.

“Yeah, but you love it,” she says, and he knows she’s grinning, even with his eyes shut.

He lets her have her way for a few moments, slumped back against the couch with his mouth slightly agape, before he finally wriggles a hand between them and starts to stroke her cunt again, just petting gently.

“You gonna fuck me or what?” he asks, cracking an eye open to look at her. 

“God yes.”

Clumsily she grasps at his shoulders, hoisting herself up until she’s poised right over his cock. She drags her cunt against him, getting him slick with her wetness, and then, when Bellamy’s about to lose his damn mind, finally sinks down on him, wiggling her hips as she settles, and he groans at the clench of her cunt around his cock.

She bumps his nose with hers. “Hi.”

“Hi.” His hands grab at her ass, squeezing hard enough that he hopes she’s left with fingertip shaped bruises against her milky white skin.

“Happy birthday,” she says, slowly rocking against him.

“It most certainly is.”

Bellamy loves sex with Clarke; he loves slow sex, rough sex, fast sex. But there’s just something about  _ this _ , the kind where they’re both sort of love drunk, giggling and kissing sloppily like a pair of randy teenagers, that he loves the most.

Maybe it’s the way that she surrounds him, his vision filled with nothing but Clarke, face flushed, bruised lips parted as she pants, the light bouncing off her hair like a halo.

Or maybe it’s the way it makes him feel like he’s the closest he’s been with her, in all ways, both physical and emotional.

Whatever it is, Bellamy feels his breath stuttering in his chest as she rides him, slow and soft and just a little bit messy and he kinds himself caressing every inch of her, shoulders, ass, tits, legs.

Eventually his mouth finds its way back to hers, after swirling his tongue around the peaked tip of her nipple, leaving a trail of love bites up her neck and mouthing his way across her jawline.

“So fucking gorgeous,” he mumbles against her mouth, “God, I love you.”

Clarke just whimpers, letting her forehead press against his.

When he feels her being to clench sporadically around him, his fingers find their way to her clit. He doesn’t bother with any teasing or trailing, instead just rubbing fast, tight little circles into her flesh while she shakes and shudders around him.

He can feel her heartbeat, racing in tandem with his and he bites down on her shoulder, leaving yet another mark there on her skin.

“You gonna come for me, princess?” he asks, letting the pet name slip out on purpose. The way she clenches in response to it does not go unnoticed by him and he kisses her again, deep and filthy until she can’t breathe.

Clarke’s gone almost wordless, just a steady, broken stream of ‘Bellamy’s’ dripping past her lips and he loves every one of them, loves when he gets her like this.

He slumps down a bit more, changing the angle so she can feel the drag of him against her walls more fully, and it only takes one, two, three more thrusts before--

“Oh fuck,  _ Bellamy-- _ ”

Her breath hitches in her throat and her cunt milks him for everything he’s worth, and he kisses her through it, even as it triggers his own release, leaving him groaning low in her mouth.

Time passes strangely after that and he doesn’t know how long they stay there, half dressed and panting, but it’s the most content he’s felt in a while and he knows that the same is true for Clarke judging from the way she nestles into him, clearly with no intention of moving anytime soon.

“You plan on making home there?” he asks, petting down her spine.

“This is my home,” she says, not entirely joking, and it sends a thrill through him.

“Sap,” he says fondly before dropping a kiss on the crown of her forehead, and he can feel the wrinkle of her nose against his collarbone.

They stay there for a while longer, almost dozing off a few times but not quite. Bellamy knows that they should probably wash up and head to bed but for some reason moving seems like it would fracture the little cocoon of solitude they’ve built, so instead they stay there, Clarke slumped over him, arms wrapped around his shoulders.

“Hey Bellamy?” she whispers, her lips barely brushing the skin of his chest.

“Hmm?”

“Hope you had a great birthday.”

He smiles even though he knows she can’t see it and links their fingers together.

“Hey Clarke?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

She sighs, happy, and presses a soft kiss to the junction of his neck and shoulder.

“Anytime.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> hmu on [tumblr](http://hiddenpolkadots.tumblr.com)


End file.
